


Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

by ghostbrainz



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Aged-Up Dib (Invader Zim), Alternate Universe - College/University, Altschmerz AU-(Invader Zim), Dib Being an Asshole (Invader Zim), Dib Has Issues (Invader Zim), Dib is So Done (Invader Zim), Everyone Has Issues, Frenemies Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), M/M, Older Dib (Invader Zim), Older Zim (Invader Zim), Post-Invader Zim: Enter the Florpus, Tall Zim (Invader Zim), Xenophiliac Dib (Invader Zim), but hey LOOK zim has a trumpet!!!, damn dib... dib has issues man did i entirely project onto dib, dib plays sax, dib plays sax bc hes sad and wants to look cool but inside he is screaming for help, dib will be doing some questionable things in his alone time, haha trumpet zim, havent written anything since seventh grade send help, if you know me as inmemb no you dont, ive been going through some stuff and.., jesus fuck bro, like... this is honestly kinda sad like..
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29104200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbrainz/pseuds/ghostbrainz
Summary: As more fruitless attempts become more common and the disdain toward him becomes more apparent, Dib stops trying to pursue Zim and gives up on all of his conspiracies. Over the years he slowly caves into himself, an utter husk of who he was, with a saxophone in hand. Until Zim decides to join him in college and play trumpet. Admittingly things get interesting.
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Kudos: 7





	Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim reaches out to Dib to start talking, Dib mildy makes excuses. Some history is revealed and Dib comes clean about some harsh stuff he has been dealing with, and realizes he has way more in common with Zim than he thought.

Dib ran the pad of his finger along the top side of his toast. Admittingly, it was mildly stimulating. Sometimes it's just nice to run your fingers along a gritty texture. Dib had found himself touching things more. Trying out different textures, fiddling with the bristles of his toothbrush, chewing on them after he's done brushing his teeth, unfortunately making him go through way too many toothbrushes anyone needs to go through during a certain period of time. He found himself yearning to get mental stimulation after the first half semester of college, also at a time where he entered a harsh phase of depression where everything clouded over. Either that, or he was just dissociating real bad.

It was probably both.

He finally brought the toast to his lips. Staring at the soft rain he felt his mind succumb to a light dissociation episode, and he let it. Usually he could keep himself grounded in the moment during class or during the day, but he wasn't in a rush and let the deep wave of mind fog envelop his mind. It was honestly mentally painful to snap himself out of a dissociation episode or to keep himself focused. It was similar to a light pain like that of a headache when he did. Honestly he was just tired. There were so many things making him tired but there was no way he could describe it. It was an exhaustion that reached his core. Exhaustion in every form.

Snapping himself out of it, he chomped on the toast. Holding the piece of bread he made his way to his closet and finished getting ready.

He pulled his Green Day sweatshirt over his head, and with a swipe of cherry chapstick he was out the door.

Zim had been antsy all day. Pacing around, not necessarily in an aggressive fashion, but still frustrated. He sipped his coffee. He liked it with way too much creamer.

He finds himself trotting slowly as he thinks back to the day when Dib broke. More specifically, when Dib shut Zim out and stopped his frustrated pursuit on the angry little soldier about seven years ago.

"Stop it Zim," he had said.

"I'm done with this, all of this. No one cares Zim. No one has ever seen the truth but me. And I'm tired of trying to get people to see--"

Zim had noted the way Dib's hands trembled.

"I'm just done. You can do what you want. I'm not gonna try and stop you anymore because in reality Zim, your plans always fail and no one gives a flying fuck about us."

8th grade. It had been in 8th grade when Dib had come clean.

In the present, Zim found himself furrowing his brows.

He decided he didn't want to remember the blasted conversation anymore and trudged to class in his big buckled boots.

* * *

"Fuck."

Dib had dropped his mouthpiece on the ground when he lifted it from the space in his instrument case. Thank fuck the floor of the band room was carpet. Most likely the big tell-tale greyish green squared carpet from the 90's. You know the ones I mean.

The band room was filled with the noise of warm up scales and people practicing miscellaneous tunes, and it felt homey. The atmosphere of a band room in the morning is one of nostalgia and comfort. Dib attached his mouthpiece to the neck of his saxophone and popped his reed in his mouth. While his reed was dampening he decided to check his phone. Just some remind updates on his classes, and...

Dib quirked a brow and moved the reed from one side of his mouth to the other.

A message from Zim.

Zim had never even really spoke to Dib much in the past seven years. Dib wasn't even moderately concerned. He had observed the Irken grow more and more docile, but he still was loud and boisterous. No other way Zim could be other than that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch how hard and personally i can project onto dib.  
> yes i was a HUGE band kid and i desperately miss band. it was so chaotic and i wouldnt have it any other way. idk why but i just dont have the same writing flow as i did in seventh grade so pls be patient this is surprisingly energizing and draining doing this fic but i be tryin

**Author's Note:**

> literally havent written shit since seventh grade bear with me here--deadass wrote this at 2:36am even though i have to go into work at 8am despite doing night shift and my fucking doormat headass decided to agree to cover this shift when silvie called off. shes lucky she is nice and keeps her station fucking spotless i still dont know how the fuck she makes her biscuits so fucking perfect ive been trying to figure it out for MONTHS and i have worked there almost a year and literally used to work in biscuits but oh well fuck me i guess


End file.
